Watyll

THIS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC MATERIAL

The bright red star that had once lit up the night had been darkened now for quite a time. An elven day had passed since Kknotos had broken free of the bonds of his prison of stone and flame. One elven day, and already he had relished the killing of three, and the torture of another. The sight of the Lich, Kraal, kneeling over and stealing the life out of a hapless victim, their very soul, was a delightful pleasure. This night, however, was not to be for pleasure. Kknotos has business to attend to. The wench, Siggourdnbad, had betrayed them. She had left, breaking off all contact with them and their master, Ikuras. Kknotos did not take kindly to betrayal. The moon was under a shroud as Kknotos rode towards his destination, a small tavern in the human lands. It was far off the main road, barely a tavern. More of an outpost. Kknotos's horse trailed flame and shadow in its wake as he rode, lifting its head up in a chilling shriek that resounded through the nightly arena of the Fringe. The tavern came within sight, and Kknotos's eyes began to crackle with green electricity. 

~~~

Garet polished off one of the mugs of ale in his small tavern. Barrels of odds and ends sat upon shelves behind him. Most of it was supplies, people from the small mining community nearby usually purchased their food from here. The barren wasteland beyond wouldn't support any sort of vegetation, and any animals that prowled the place were feral and inedible. Often they would be the hunters instead of the other way around. It was a quiet night in the tavern, however. Five men sat at different tables, one of them at the bar. The four at tables talked quietly, while the one at the bar lay slumped over. His name was Dareth, an ungrateful lout of a drunkard. If a pig had **** he would chase after it. That's how starved Dareth was for female company. Not that Garet was any better- but at least he would stay within his own species. The men at the other table were mercenaries. Toughs hired to protect the merchants carting the minerals away to far off Kaldonia. Garet didn't know their names. He continued to polish until he heard an unearthly shriek from outside. The four mercenaries looked up warily, then went back to their chatting. Garet wondered what it could have been, and hoped it wasn't one of the feral waste beasts. The door to the tavern opened. A strange apparition strode in. A tall, gaunt, hooded figure with an iron mask in the visage of a skull. 

"What an edgy ****…" thought Garet as the figure strode up to the bar. The guards all chuckled at the oddly clothed being. The thing seemed not to notice as it leaned over the counter, not even glancing at the slumped over figure of Dareth. 

"Can I help you?" asked Garet.

"Ah yes, I was wondering- have you seen a young, red haired druid dedicant? Fond of wearing a wooden mask, though perhaps she has put that aside." Garet furrowed his brow. He did know such a woman, she came here for supplies every once in a while- but never food. Only a druid could have coaxed life out of such a place. However… she had warned him that people might come looking for her. 

"No, haven't seen her." Garet said with a cheerful grin, grabbing the hilt of the knife at his side. The apparition leaned forward, as thunder rumbled outside. For the first time, Garet noticed his eyes were crackling an emerald green. It spoke in a whispery voice, so that nobody could hear it.

"Good bartender… I think you believe I am stupid. Another one of your 'edgies' that simply talk loudly about their abilities and carry katanas and talk in an eastern fashion. That is false. I am a- well, not quite rational man. But I will promise you, I am quite dangerous. I would advise telling me where the wench is… And releasing the dagger by your side." The thunder rolled again outside. Garet began to sweat. It wasn't worth getting into a fight with this thing for some young maiden. Even if she was very pretty. Garet hadn't been with a pretty lady in a long time… Garet told the creature where she was hiding. The thing gave a curt nod, then his eyes began to turn into a full black color as he gave Dareth a little tap on the head before turning around. The formerly inert drunkard spasmed suddenly, arching his back and crying out loudly. His eyes rolled back in his head as he began to shout inanely, shrieking for bloody murder. Glass broke as he fell to the floor, cutting himself. Dareth had gone completely mad. The skull masked creature was nowhere to be seen. 

~~~

Amity slowly coaxed the flower in her pot to life. It was hard to get water out here in the red waste, but she had spent many an hour practicing drawing it up from the earth. Her new home was spacious, for if one thing was in excess in the wastes, it was empty space. She had managed to grow a small grove of trees, though the aspects did not bless her nearly as much since she had left the circle. There was also a central, larger tree with outstretched branches that she loved to hang glass orbs from, and sometimes candles. Life was good in the waste, for her at least. As she hummed and bustled about her home, she suddenly heard a knock at the door. Wondering who it could be, Amity shrugged and opened up the door. A skeletal hand shot out, wrapping around her throat. With it followed a surging jolt of electricity. Above the brightly lit green glow, two emerald eyes cracked and sparkled within an iron mask. Amity gurgled out one word before losing consciousness. "Kknotos…"

~~~

WARNING: EXTREMELY GRAPHIC MATERIAL

When Amity awoke, she found herself with her feet and hands tied together with one length of rope behind her back. She hung from the tree that she had once loved to hang small orbs of light. Amity did not think she would ever hang orbs there again. 

"Good morning, Siggourdnbad." said Kknotos, pacing into view. 

"Kknotos… please…"

"Please what? Leave you be? I believe that time is far past. No, I don't think so." Amity grunted and struggled, trying to break free. 

"That life is past me Kknotos. Let me free and I won't tell the authorities." This was a desperate bid. There were no authorities in the waste. Kknotos knew this, and slowly paced away, pulling out a small knife and beginning to polish it with his robes. 

"You have abandoned me, Siggourdnbad. Abandoned the cult. You've lost your way from the flock. You have become a sheep... Are you familiar with how lambs are slaughtered, Siggourdnbad? It's very humane you know, the way they do it… I myself find it rather lacking in imagination. We're going to do it backwards, and it will be a grand old time... You see- the fifth step is evisceration." With that, Kknotos stepped forward and made a cut across Amity's abdomen, slicing through the soft flesh. Intestines spilled out, gore and blood splattering the green grass of Amity's house. She screamed. Nothing could compare to this agony. "Ah, lovely. Now I'm afraid you're going to die rather quickly like that: so we'll have to hurry it up. The fourth step is washing… but that takes too much time, much too boring. So we'll skip to step three, skinning. Not your whole skin, because again," Kknotos gave a small chuckle as Amity continued to scream unceasingly, the sound of her torment echoing throughout the waste as her bowels spilled from her body and her lifeblood poured out "We're a bit pressed for time." Kknotos reached up and made too small cuts on Amity's legs, incisions all the way around, then began to tear the skin from her legs, gripping it with two hands. "Lamb of leg is a most delightful dish. So we'll just skin that part of you. The ripping sound of flesh being torn from Amity's legs was largely drowned out by Amity's screaming. "And finally steps one and two. Step two is removing the fleece, but I think cutting is a bit too slow." with that Kknotos flicked a spark into Amity's hair, which immediately began to shoulder and burn. The smell of smoking flesh filled the air and her screams rose in pitch and intensity. "That will kill you even quicker so now, step one, the kill." Kknotos smoothly stepped over and slashed in a single motion across Amity's throat. The scream cut off immediately. What was once a beautiful maiden was now reduced to a hanging carcass, its bowels swaying in the night air and its throat sliced.

~~~

Kknotos strode back into the fortress he shared with his followers. A few stood up and bowed in respect to him, including Chol, the cultist he had taught his special brand of magic to. He motioned for Chol to stand up before looking around the assembled cultists. 

"Siggourdnbad is dead. Chol will take her place. He will no longer be called Chol, but take the blessed name: Siggourdnbad." 

Siggourdnbad bowed. 

~~~

In a small hut in the wastelands of the fringe there sits a grove house. Within the grove there are trees, and flowers, and many beautiful growing things. Glowing orbs hang from branches. Upon the floor of this grove there lies a dead carcass of a female, disemboweled, skinless, with its throat cut. Around her is drawn a mysterious four pointed star, one that people who enter can only wonder about. 

((JtPv has given me permission to kill off his character. This is a PK post))

This post has identified itself as a set atmosphere, and would desire you to comply with its tones. Any out of character problems should be brought to the author of the post via PMS. Details

Why not let characters choose their race eh? 

Character Name: Kknotos

Race: Human

Run-down of their personality: Evil, insane, dedicated to the evil daemon Ikuras. Leader of the cult of Ikuras. 

Physical appearance: Robes and an iron skull mask. Occasionally rides a flaming nightmare horse. When he casts electrical evocation his eyes crackle with green lightning. When he casts fear magic spells they leak black mist. 

are u secretly arteh

Kknotos outstretched his hand, offering out the key to the young girl. She was perfect. Exactly as the prophecy had stated. Tainted of body, and yet pure of soul. Her kind were known as scourgeborn. The key itself glimmered and sparked, its prisoner sensing its freedom was near. The child, Dhaun, hesitantly reached a hand towards the construct formed of angudaemonic magic. Kknotos grinned underneath his iron mask, his expression hidden from the girl. The volcano beneath their feet shifted and bubbled with magma, and shouts came from all about them. The clerics had come, bringing their accursed and foul purity magic with them. The Lich, Kraal, was a fiery inferno of bone and speed. The Dread Knight, Vorrul, and his counterpart Dread Knight (whose name Kknotos knew not), crushed all in their path, metal behemoths. Siggourdnbad was nowhere to be seen. Curse her hide. He wished for her presence. Not many expected an attack from such a petite female form. But for the moment, he turned back to his charge, his freedom, his weapon.

All of a sudden, a loud blast sounded from the volcano. A roar of the mountain. Lava blasted upwards, propelled by the force of the earth itself. A crushing wave of molten fire soared over Kknotos. By some miracle, Dhaun dove to the side, avoiding its path. Kknotos stared at the wave, the key grasped tightly in his hand. Its orangish glow took up his entire vision, and he thought himself lost. Then, with a crackling sound, the key shot into life, spewing forth tendrils of void and ethereal black mist, surrounding Kknotos an in inky embrace. The lava washed over the newly created shield, and Kknotos watched in rage as the volcano’s liquid hardened over his shield. Light dissapeared, and Kknotos did not see or hear anything but void.

~~~

Months later, as Anthos dissapeared in a great flood, the volcano crumbled under the onrush of water. Even the mightiest stones could not stand up to the power and speed of the great oceans. A chunk of the lava broke off from the very top of the mountain, and began to float away. Being a volcanic rock, it very likely had air bubbles of a sort inside. Carried by ocean currents, the chunk of rock floated away from Anthos. Years passed as it was borne towards it’s new destination. Years until the rock washed up on the shore of the Fringe.

~~~

“Ey, look at tha’ there, Dimmer!” said the young dwarf warrior as he pointed to a particularly large chunk of black rock on the beach. He rushed over to it, curiosity overtaking him. His friend, Dimmer, sighed. They were supposed to be on patrol for human scouts.

“Barian, come on, stop foolin’ around.” He made his way over to the rock much less enthusiastically. This war had consumed too many careless fools already. Barian scrambled up on top of the rock, taking off his helmet. His armor glinted in the sunlight as he tapped the rock with his axe. A slight echo followed.

“Dimmer! It be ‘ollow!”

“Good, now leave it beh!” Barian of course, did not heed his friends wishes. Dimmer sighed. Barian had done this sort of thing before, like charging straight into a high elven ambush. They had survived the onslaught, but just barely. Barian slammed the butt of his axe again and again into the rock, chipping the light volcanic material away in chunks. Finally a small hole opened.

“Ey Dimmer, I made a-”

Barian was cut off as the rock exploded into a thousand different shards, spraying outwards in all directions. One of the shards caught Barian right under the chin, and it shredded into the soft skin of his neck easily, spraying crimson into the air for meters around. His dying was not quick. And as the rock lay embedded in his veins, he gagged and choked on his own blood. Surely, if he could manage to speak, it would be only to cry out in agony. A shrouded figure slowly got up from the smoking remains of the rock, tottering slightly. it turned towards the remaining dwarf, Dimmer, and sunlight glinted off its iron mask, its skull’s visage almost glowing. Dimmer brought his axe up, wincing to the sounds of Barian coughing up bits of skin and blood. Letting out a wordless roar, he charged, raising his weapon high for a strike. The apparition’s eyes suddenly begin to spark and crackle with an emerald light, and it raised up an emaciated hand. Vermillion electricity shot from it, arcing at the dwarf. Lightning crackled up and down Dimmer’s form, and he opened his mouth in a snarling rictus. The scent of burning, smoking flesh filled the air. Dimmer collapsed, and the hooded and masked figure made his way on.

~~~

In the heart of the Fringe, three figures met. A hooded and masked figure, a Dread Lord, and a Lich. The lich knelt.

“Master.” it said in that hoarse way it had of talking. The Dread Lord merely glared at the masked figure. Kknotos looked him up and down.

“Do’kyoni shaek du’tharp-tzorr, Vorrul. You have come a long way, Vorrul.” said Kknotos, looking over the lich to the dread knight, then fixing his gaze back on the lich. “Guh’gerr, Kraal. Vatplazi sna Siggourdnbad? Stand, Kraal. Where is Siggourdnbad?” he next asked in the Black Speech. Kraal shook his head.

“She is no longer interested in being with us.” Kknotos grunted at this.

“Dayn narg nal’gertt’ezg nal’sek skaldn zu’aemus. Nal’sna du’zamarkhow. Then she has lost her fear of us. She is a weakness.” Vorrul nodded in agreement.

“In the mean time…” Kknotos said, speaking once more in common. “We must let the descendants know that we yet draw breath. It has been many years since I have walked the earth.”

~~~

A crimson, four pointed star ignites in the sky, bathing the Fringe in an eerie crimson glow. From the palace of Kaldonia to the spires of Haelun’or to the fortress of Kal’arkon it is visible. Some wonder what it could mean. Others who were part of the struggle many years ago recognize it for what it is, and grimly prepare themselves.

Ikuras ag’kuram hel. Ikuras will be free.

This post has identified itself as a set atmosphere, and would desire you to comply with its tones. Any out of character problems should be brought to the author of the post via PMS. Details 

Throw the Raevir down the well

So my culture can be free!

Scout Brudder Victor Venator sighs as the speech reaches its conclusion. He heads out into the early spring day, placing a helmet upon his head, which by the day grew more and more gray hairs. It was briskly cold out, but he had drawn the watch, and would fulfill his duty. Victor limps up to the walls on Dungrimm's Mouth, pacing past dwarf legionnaires on his way to the southern lookout post. His wound from the Battle of the Dreadfort still troubles him. A dwarf legionnaire is already on duty. Victor speaks to him, not turning his head as we watches over the vast field leading from the Mouth to Kaz'ad-Dekan-Waerod. 

"I have fought in more wars than I can remember. I fought in the bloodshed at the battle of the Dreadfort, over the running rivers during the first World War, and even in the filth of the trenches in the last Human-Dwarf war. In only one of these battles I wore the Black Cross. Now I have returned to it, as a babe returns to its mother's milk." Victor scratches his neck slightly.

"This war is the worst I have ever fought in. Every day another battle, pointless daily sacrifices with no land gained. I've seen friends die and civilians slaughtered. I have seen cities ransacked and heard the screaming of the wounded. In all wars I have seen this, but never so often as this abomination. The Empire caused this. It must end." 

"Eh?" says the dwarf.

"Nevermind, just watch the damn field."

You do realize that I pretty much turned my post into a song from Oh Brother Where Art Thou, can't really tell if you then took me seriously.

I can't, because I am a man of constant sorrow.

It seems I've been ganked while asleep, but I'll respond to each of you.

@Zebanamana: Thank you again for having that chat with me. I still use that pm convo for info on human racism. Thank you also for trying to defuse the situation, but I'm not "perceiving" any insults. I have been insulted, and I'm not just going to take it.

@Niccum: You should honestly feel bad about yourself for judging me without ever having talked to me one on one. I don't know why you hate me so much, as I've never said anything negative about you or the Lucienists when they were still around. Hell, I tried to get them involved in an event quest line I was running the one time, which Zhulik told me you refused because "it might be a cleric plot". Calm down.

@Zezimus: Thank you.

@Gaius: Yeah, I know I made an assumption. It was a mistake, which I've since apologized for to Kowaman on page 2. This has now turned into a way to get peoples hate towards me out of their system so:

Anyway, if you have a problem with me take it to PMs. This is supposed to be a thread of rational discussion.

I agree with Wilette. Don't remove an element of server role play simply because it causes friction between opposing factions. The mods tried to do that at the beginning of the war and look how that turned out. Role play is a loud activity that shouldn't be muted.

So should we ban anything that causes a reaction then?

Learn to behave yourself instead of finding some other excuse for the love of god..

Minnie's summed it up pretty nicely actually.

Get over yourself and go home watyll. You are being a right prick with a stick up his ass and you have no place on this thread. And I will accept any forum warns I may earn for saying this.

@Renard: You have somewhat of a point there, but a lot of people I've talked to enjoy reading the victory posts. The problem seems to arise when the posts are "propaganda posts" and not true victory posts. A victory post states the facts of what happened while also making the read entertaining. Propaganda, which seems primarily what make up the posts lately, embellishes the facts to a point where one side looks like absolute scum and the poster's side looks like the second coming. But back to my point: I don't think they've necessarily grown stagnant, and reading and writing these posts are fun. Twilightwolf and I spent around a half hour in teamspeak, interviewing folks and looking for good pictures for the victory post we wrote up. It was good fun.

((I died. My day is brightened.

Well I'd just wage that you're labeling a whole nation under one rather unpleasant color due to the actions of a minority or in some cases a majority, which is in a sense quite unfair. I don't call out every member of any given race and label them on the actions of a certain group, y'know. So I suppose I'd expect the same in return.

I'm not labeling you all bad. I was an Oren role player for a whole summer. I get along great with some Orenians. However, I do know that people in the same group back each other up, and that isn't a bad thing. Don't take anything I've said as an insult towards you or your ic nation.

We've made more then one.

@Mr_Greene: Is it so foreign to assume that? There's a group on this server that literally DDOS's groups it doesn't get along with.

As you can see, I'm not the only one who has a problem with your attitude. And I can assure you we are not the only two.

Because you're both with the Oren crew. People on my side don't much like your attitude. But I'm not going to say "Numbers are on my side, therefore I win." Because I can rationally argue my point.

I'm only toxic to people who are toxic to me. Redbaron, get down off your intellectual high horse and realize I didn't start the hate on this thread. I mean damn, I've said maybe two words to you and it's suddenly "evil watyll he is the cancer eating lotc!!1"

Can you please cut it out? You've been nothing but toxic to anyone who has a differing opinion than yours. That wasn't the first victory post, you are not always right, you are acting like a child. Please control yourself and stop being the problem.

Calm yourself. I'm making a point. Counteract with logic or you are the child. Put your insults back away in the toy box.

It's funny how you say this after dwarves make their very first victory post. The mentality here seems to be "No! Only we're allowed to do that!"

Or were you restocking on your armour after you were slain by the blade

he was there from the moment I showed up two hours before this video was taken

cry some more

Haha, the victory post says that many men were seared by the pouring of the oil, but Oren didn't get close to the wall at all.

Apparently it happened out of sight of our cameraman

Scout Brudder Victor Venator cheers!

"Beliae Doe Moedor Lent! Beliae Doe Orden!"

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/110164-a-melting-of-snow-official-warclaim/

Use this handy map! This is what you have to go to before marching all the way to Arkon. Thanks!

"You aren't even winning. What." says Victor.

so romstun are squeakers?

i had a giggle